


Mages Can be Useful, Regardless of Squishiness

by fearformuninn



Series: DKV [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: College of Winterhold - Freeform, Gen, Riverwood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6821293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearformuninn/pseuds/fearformuninn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which our first valiant mage is introduced, and he is just as squishy as Ingmund hoped he wouldn't be.</p><p>Tovell is summoned to the Arch-Mage's chamber (along with, it seemed, the entire rest of the College. One would think mages would have something better to do than gossip) to meet a ragged group of warriors. Though he doesn't meet their requirements, Savos Aren sees things differently.</p><p>Being the Arch-Mage's favorite can truly be a struggle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which a group of strangers indirectly save Tovell's face from immolation

**Author's Note:**

> And our party's mage is introduced! I'm quite excited about his introduction to the party. His personality doesn't jive with "boisterous alcoholic warrior" quite as well as the others', so I think the inevitable clash will present a lot of potential for all the characters to grow.
> 
> If you're trying to make sense of where the party is in terms of questing, this is directly after they fail to find the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. They went a little farther north, to Winterhold, in order to get the mage they find they need in the last fic. From here, they plan to travel to Riverwood for the purposes of meeting Delphine, "a friend."

“Excellent, Tovell, simply excellent!”

Tovell shuddered as the lightning slammed into his ward, but the shield did not break. 

Tolfdir beamed in pride. “I do believe that would withstand the brunt of J’Zargo’s firebolt spell, if you would believe it.”

J’Zargo scoffed in disbelief, and Tovell found himself inclined to agree. He was simply talented.

Tolfdir patted the small Breton’s back as he passed. “Good work today, apprentices. Your spells are all coming along very nicely.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Onmund mumbled, his hands still twitching. Tovell couldn’t help but feel sorry. Onmund’s ward had splintered under Tolfdir’s powerful lightning attack, and Tovell’s performance had immediately followed, making Onmund look like an even bigger fool.

Though a group as small as theirs would usually mean they would all stand together quite shamelessly, each member’s ambition made it difficult to support Tovell and his brilliance.

Tovell felt a clench of guilt squeeze his lung as Brelyna avoided his eye contact on her way to the gate. “Don’t worry about her, friend. J’Zargo is sure that she will come to terms with it soon.”

“...Come to terms with what, J’Zargo?”

The Khajiit gave him a smirk. “Come to terms with the fact that not all mages can be as talented as the two of us.” At Tovell’s amused sigh, J’Zargo took a graceful step back. “Now, I have hypothesis to test. Tolfdir suggested your ward could withstand my fire, but J’Zargo is not so sure. Shall we test?”

Ah. J’Zargo wanted to prove his magical dominance as well as get in a hit on the Arch-Mage’s favorite by disguising it as research. That tricky khajiit.

Tovell had half a mind to invite the other two apprentices back into the Hall of the Elements. At least they could live vicariously through J’Zargo and get out some of their frustration.

As J’Zargo’s claws filled with fire, Tolfdir walked between the two. “As...enlightening as I hope this experiment would be,” he said, tone barely concealing his amusement, “The Arch-Mage has requested Tovell’s presence. I hope you’ll excuse him, J’Zargo.”

The flames went out. “Of course, Tolfdir. Khajiit doesn’t mind. Only gives him more time to practice.”

“That’s a good man. Now, Tovell, come with me. We mustn’t keep the Arch-Mage waiting.” With an apologetic glance at J’Zargo, Tovell followed Tolfdir out of the Hall and up into the Arch-Mage’s quarters.

Immediately, he could hear an argument. 

“We just need a good mage to help in our quest. They would be well paid!” The voice was fairly deep, and unfamiliar to Tovell. It was rare to have strangers in the College.

Tovell could hear Nirya laugh. “Like you vagabonds could afford any of our mages.”

Tovell reached the top of the stairs and fully entered the room. A small crowd of wizards stood by the Arch-Mage’s garden, looking curiously at a small group of strangers. All three were clad in armor, making them stand out even more dramatically among the crowd of robed mages. 

The three - two nords and an orc, from what Tovell could tell - were all quite tall and intimidating looking. It amazed him how the Arch-Mage could look them in the eye without balking.

The Arch-Mage, Savos Aren, stepped forward and put a hand on Nirya’s shoulder to pacify her. “Now, now, Nirya, that’s no way to treat guests, especially those as distinguished as these.” He turned to face what looked to be the leader of the stranger’s troupe. With a smooth smile and a smoother voice, he said, “Of course we will do our best to help you.”

The leader nodded. “Thank you, uh, sir.”

“Sir?” Aren chuckled. “How quaint.”

These strangers must have been more than what they seemed. The College was never one for bending to political leanings. Aren had always been more inclined to do what was best for perpetuating knowledge, not strength or control. This was one of the many things Tovell respected him for.

“Ah, look. I’m glad you could join us, Tovell.” The Arch-Mage approached him with a warm smile that Tovell could not help but try to return. Aren knew him well, and knew to take the small, brief smile to mean much more than it portrayed. “These travellers are here in search of a mage to join them in their journey, and I think you are more than qualified to take the job.”

“What?” Tovell’s brow furrowed slightly, though not enough that a stranger would have noticed. His voice dropped, well aware of the audience. “Arch-Mage, are you sure-”

“Yes, Arch-Mage, are you quite sure this is a good idea?” Ancano stepped through the pack of mages, standing tall in his Thalmor robes. “After all, the boy is only an apprentice. Surely you understand that there are mages present who are more capable?”

“Perhaps, but all of those mages are currently busy with their own...projects,” Aren said tactfully, not breaking eye contact with the Thalmor representative. “Tovell is the only one we have who is free to take this opportunity. Besides, I’m sure it will be a valuable learning experience for him.”

“This kid? He looks about ready to fall apart,” said the orc shortly before being conspicuously elbowed by the Nord woman. The comment did nothing for Tovell’s confidence.

“You’ll find that appearances may be quite deceiving when it comes to mages, Master Orc. Tovell is one of our strongest, and quite well-versed in the dragon lore that you will be dealing with in your adventure. At least, I assume that will be the case.” Aren gave a steady smile. “Besides, you would not deprive the College of the chance to have one of its own witness and aid the dragonborn, would you? I assure you, this is not something we would scrimp on.”

The...dragonborn? Tovell looked blankly at the Arch-Mage, then the Nord warrior. Was that…?

“Arch-Mage?” He croaked out, his voice strained. “Could we speak privately, please?”

“Of course, apprentice. Nirya, why don’t you take our visitors to the Arcanaeum? I’m sure they will be fascinated to see our immense library while they’re here.”

Nirya paled, but beckoned the strangers along all the same. “O-of course, Arch-Mage.” Then, to a very amused group of warriors, “Now, you three, don’t you touch any of the books in that librarian, hear me? The master scholar is an orc bigger than any of you, and he’ll be after all our heads if something gets damaged…” Her voice trailed off as the group descended the stairs.

Seeing their entertainment gone and their welcome expire, the rest of the mages retreated as well, either to the Hall of the Elements or to the roof of the building. This left Savos Aren and Tovell alone in a suddenly peaceful garden.

Tovell took a deep breath and approached the flowers, letting his hand cup a magelight candle. His eyes closed, he felt the cool lightness of the magic seep into his hand, trickle into his soul. 

He was stirred back to reality by a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into the Arch-Mage’s calm face, staring into the pure light. 

They stood in silence for a peaceful moment. “It is truly lovely, isn’t it?” Aren said softly.

Tovell nodded carefully, unwilling to breach the silence quite yet. 

Aren gave him a curious look. “It isn’t often when you find a mage such as you, Tovell.” A deliberate pause. “Most mages see their magic as a tool, a means to an end. A weapon. But you… you’ve always found the beauty in the simplest of spells. Like each and every one of them are equal, regardless of what they are capable of.” Tovell looked up at him. Though Tovell would not claim to be good at reading faces, he thought Aren looked almost mournful. Regretful. “I wish I had been like you when I was younger.”

“Arch-Mage?”

“Maybe that’s why you have such a knack for it. A sign from Julianos, to show us what we’ve been doing wrong. Ah, but forgive me. An old man’s rambling theories.” Aren gave him a smile. “Now, as for these adventurers.”

There it was. “Yes, sir, I’m not sure I’m ready to-” Tovell’s voice cut out as Aren raised his hand.

“Relax, Tovell. I respectfully disagree.”

“Sir, I-”

“I want you to travel with them, Tovell. I truly believe you are the best one for the job.”

A helpless sigh. “But, sir, why?”

Aren turned back to the magelight, letting his eyes drift over the white glow it left over the room. “You are your greatest enemy in this, Tovell. You deeply underestimate your own abilities. Your knowledge will lend itself best to this expedition, I think. And, out of anyone else here, you have the most to gain.” A breath. “After all, who would be better equipped to fight a dragon?”

“Maybe someone who specializes in destruction magic,” Tovell grumbled.

Aren chuckled. “This will be good for you, Tovell. Trust me on this.” Aren gave his shoulder a squeeze, then let go. “Now, you know where they are. Why don’t you introduce yourself properly to your new companions, hm?”

~~~

“Hello. My name is Tovell Cloud-Bringer, and I would be honored to join your party. That is, if you will have me.”

The leader stepped forward, towering over the small Breton. “I am Hadmar New-Dawn, the Last Dragonborn. It’s good to have you, Tovell.”

Tovell nodded, barely making eye contact. Urag gro-Shub rolled his eyes. Stupid kid. Brilliant, but stupid.

The woman stepped forward. “My name is Rikje Blackthorn. I look forward to seeing your skills in action.” Her accent was thick, and he could barely understand her.

“And I am Tannuck gro-Durgol.” The enormous orc gave him a terrifying grin. Tovell was sure that it widened when he shrunk back. “Better known as your meatshield. Try not to hit me with any fire, right?”

“Right,” he said weakly.

Hadmar laughed, as if it was all a funny joke. “Right. We’ve got a mage, so we’ll probably be able to stop narrowly avoiding death whenever we set out for something.” This time, they all laughed as if it were a funny joke. Warriors were insane.

“Our next stop is Riverwood, kid. Ever been there?”

“Can’t say I have. I don’t leave the College much.”

The dragonborn laughed at him. It was almost surreal. “You’ll be leaving the College quite a bit in the coming months. Are you ready for that?”

Tovell guessed he would have to be. He nodded. 

“Then let’s get going.”

After a near travesty in which Tannuck nearly fell off the College’s bridge, the four did exactly that.


	2. In which Tovell is forced to say #NotAllConjurors completely unironically

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party meets their new friend, whose paranoia makes room for some soul-searching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to have the Thalmor Embassy quest be in the next fic, and having this be the chapter where the quest was introduced. However, then I remembered the dragon attack at Kynesgrove. 
> 
> This fic will now have three chapters.

“I cannot wait to sleep in a real bed again.” Tannuck stretched, and Tovell cringed when several of the orc’s joints popped. 

“As do we all, Tannuck. We’ve been on the road for too long.” Ingmund led the group towards the gates of Riverwood, giving a suspicious guard a nod.

“And whose fault is that? If you’d realized the length of the journey between Winterhold and Riverwood, maybe we wouldn’t have kept finding ourselves in the middle of nowhere when night fell,” Rikje said with a grimace. 

Tovell found he had to agree. Though it wasn’t like he’d never been outside the college before, he was hardly used to camping in the great outdoors. His big adventure by the dragonborn’s side had, so far, been nothing but a few cold nights and the occasional wolf attack.

Ingmund gave Rikje an annoyed look. “How was I supposed to know we wouldn’t make it to another inn by nightfall? You’re supposed to be the guide, aren’t you?”

“Please, let’s not argue. We’re in Riverwood now, and our next move is literally to rent a room in the inn. We can just rest easily now.” Tovell’s interruption was met with matching looks of curiosity from the arguing nords. Not being one for superfluous conversation, he hadn’t spoken much on the road. With the slightest hint of amusement, he noted that they had probably never heard him say so many words in one breath.

Tovell’s train of thought was interrupted by the orc snickering and throwing an arm around his thin shoulders. “Kid, ‘resting easily’ won’t be happening for a while. Remember, we don’t know who left us that note. We might get to sit inside, but we’ll be just as on guard as we have been these past few nights.”

Ingmund nodded grimly. “We could very well be walking into a trap right now, but it’s our best bet on finding that horn. We’ve just got to be ready for anything.” His serious lecture was punctuated by him barely managing to side-step a child who came barreling down the path. He looked pointedly at Tovell, as if to say “See?”

Rikje rolled her eyes, clearly suppressing a smile, and pointed out a building to the right. “There’s the Sleeping Giant. Are we ready to go in?”

Though the sun was beginning to set, Tovell could clearly see Tannuck finger the hilt of his weapon. Though none of the warriors had their weapons in their hands, they were all ready to draw them at a moment’s notice. Idly, Tovell felt insecurity creep across his chest and brush the underside of his heart. Maybe he should ready a spell. But what spells did he know that wouldn’t require several precious seconds to cast? 

Ignorant to the mage’s inner turmoil, Rikje pushed open the inn’s door, and the party filed inside. 

\--

Perhaps irrationally, they had expected a bit of a grander welcome. A squadron of soldiers, or maybe Thalmor agents. Masked and unknown fighters, awaiting them in the dining area with weapons drawn. 

Tannuck was only slightly disappointed to find none of this. The inn was sparsely populated with a few farmers and a lone bard, plucking at his lute. Only a few acknowledged the party’s entrance, and even then, only with a disinterested glance. “Hm. Ain’t every day we get visitors in Riverwood,” one mumbled. Tannuck expected that the man thought he was being quiet.

Tannuck’s hand dropped to his side, and he glanced at Ingmund. To his relief, Ingmund looked just as disappointed as he felt. Tovell, on his other side, let out a huge breath, and Tannuck tried to hold back a snort. Seemed like the kid wasn’t greatly anticipating their battles. How surprising.

A woman approached them from the front of the inn, looking to the world like a tired, overworked matron, but there was a gleam of something curious in her eye. “You must be those visitors, been pokin’ around.”

“Has word reached you already? We’ve only just arrived in town,” Rikje said. Her tone was amiable, but Tannuck knew her well enough by now to sense the suspicion in her voice.

“I’m the innkeeper. It’s my business to keep track of strangers.” She paused a moment, handed a man a new mug of ale, and added “Now, how can I help you?”

“We’d like to rent a couple of rooms, if you’ve got any vacancies,” Rikje said. The innkeeper snorted, and Tannuck had to agree. This place didn’t seem the type to be too crowded.

“Also,” Ingmund added, “We’d like the attic room.”

The innkeeper’s eyebrow quirked. “Attic room, eh? Well, we don’t have an attic room, but you can have the two rooms on the left.”

In Tannuck’s peripheral vision, he could see Tovell frown. Rikje, however, smiled gratefully as she handed the innkeeper some septims and walked to one of their rooms, then closed the door. With a glance at one another, Tannuck and Ingmund followed, Tovell trailing behind.

They reached Rikje’s closed door and hesitated. “Um,” Ingmund proclaimed confidently before opening the wooden door. Standing by the bed, Rikje turned to the doorway with an annoyed look. 

“Didn’t you know that it’s rude to open a door without knocking first? Besides, you’re all rooming next door.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you would have made time to talk to us,” Ingmund said hotly before entering the room. The four of them fit inside, though it was snug, especially after Tovell softly closed the door. “Why did the note tell us to rent the attic room?”

“I don’t know, Ingmund.”

“And why didn’t you know that they didn’t have an attic room? I thought you said you’d been here before!”

“I said I’d been to Riverwood. I never said I’d stayed in the inn. I didn’t know.”

“Well, now what are we supposed to do?”

Rikje let out an angry huff, and Tannuck saw Tovell press himself into the wall to try to go unnoticed. Smart kid. Quick learner.

“Ingmund, I don’t know what to do. I am in the same position as you. I get that you’re stressed, but you cannot blame this on me. I don’t know what to do next.”

“Thankfully for you, I do.” The voice of the innkeeper came from the doorway, and Tannuck was surprised Ingmund didn’t get whiplash from turning to face her.

“Wha-”

“Could I speak with you, please?” Her gaze was intense and focused on Ingmund, nothing like the disinterested matron from before.

“I...suppose so. Shall I follow you?” Ingmund frowned, glancing at Rikje. She was too focused on the innkeeper to return the look.

“Yes, that would be best. Don’t worry, you’ll only be a few minutes.”

The woman left, and Ingmund followed. He looked stern and angry, but Tannuck knew through experience that that was Ingmund’s “confused” face. Tannuck, Rikje, and Tovell were left in the room.

“Well, that happened,” Tannuck said after a moment of silence.

“Who do you think she is? Do you think she’ll try to ambush him while he’s alone?” Rikje heaved her weapon and scowled.

“Uh, if it helps,” Tovell noted while biting his lip, “the farmers here seemed interested that a group of strangers had arrived. They will likely notice if one of those strangers is never seen leaving. That innkeeper probably won’t try anything with witnesses.”

Rikje frowned, then grudgingly put away her weapon. “I suppose you’re right. But now what do we do? Just wait?”

“Just wait.”

As the seconds ticked by, they could see Rikje getting antsy again, but the door creaked open again before anything could come of it. Ingmund reentered, amazingly unharmed.

“What did she want?” Rikje immediately asked.

Ingmund’s hands rose, palms up, in the universal ‘surrender’ signal. “She wanted to know if you were all trustworthy. Seems like Delphine - the innkeeper - was our ‘friend’ all along.”

Rikje’s eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. She also gave me this.” And, miraculously, he pulled the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller from his pack.

“You’re kidding,” Rikje repeated, with feeling.

“Huh. Can’t say I saw that coming,” Tannuck said. “So, now what?”

“She wants to talk to us all. In a few minutes, Rikje and I will go over to her room, and you and Tovell will follow a few minutes later.” At Tannuck’s frown, he elaborated. “She wants to stagger it so it doesn’t look as suspicious. Apparently,” he said, as if it were some great chore, “she has something important to tell us.”

Rikje was having none of that. “Why couldn’t she just tell us here?”

“Look, I don’t know. But if we want to figure this out, we’re going to have to play by her rules for a little while.” He paused, and added “Just...make sure you keep your weapons on you. If this really is a trap, we’re not going to make it too easy for them.”

Though she was still frowning, Rikje nodded. “Could I see that horn, Ingmund?” Though he gave her a curious look, he handed Rikje the horn.

She took it carefully, letting her fingers ghost over the spidery cracks in the old horn, and her eyes widened. “This...this has to be the real thing. It’s so old, you can just feel the many years this thing has endured. It’s amazing.”

Ingmund met Tannuck’s eyes, and they shared their amusement. It was still funny to them that such a tough fighter could so quickly become enamored with old, dusty artifacts. Behind them, though, Tovell’s eyes were glued on the horn. 

After an adequate amount of time had passed, Rikje and Ingmund crossed the hall to Delphine’s room, leaving Tovell and Tannuck behind. The two watched the Nords go, taking with them all conversation.

Tannuck, not one to sit in awkward silence, hopped on the bed. “So, what’s your story, kid?”

“...what?”

Tannuck did not roll his eyes, and for this, he decided, he deserved an award. Honestly, had the Arch-Mage given them this kid as a way to teach him how to socialize?

“I said, ‘what’s your story?’ What kind of magic do you do? I don’t know much about it, myself.”

The kid made a serious face - Tannuck had found that the kid was prone to that - and looked down. “I’m a conjuror. ...As in, I specialize in conjuration magic.”

“So...what do you do? I take that to mean that you don’t shoot fire.”

After an instant of hesitation, he shook his head. “No, I’m not a destruction mage. Conjuration magic is… Do you really not know?”

Tannuck shook his head, trying not to show his amusement at Tovell’s bewildered look. “It’s not exactly common knowledge, kid.”

“...Right. Well, conjuration magic involves summoning things like weapons, familiars or atronachs. And…” The kid paused, then shut his mouth. Interesting. 

“And…?” Tannuck let a slow grin creep across his face.

Tovell met his gaze, and, for an unnerving second, Tannuck thought he felt something deeper. An itching, poking sensation in his head. He shivered.

“Well, it also has to do with reanimating corpses to do one’s bidding,” Tovell trailed off, looking nervous. 

Tannuck paled. “Wait, as in, necromancy?”

Tovell cringed. “Well, yes. I’m not a necromancer, but it is part of the conjuration school. Not all conjurors are necromancers. Mostly, I practice summoning.”

Tannuck nodded slowly, his face betraying his uneasiness. “Right. So, uh, is this conjuration all you can do?”

Tovell’s face looked as sullen as ever, but seemed moderately relieved that Tannuck had let the topic of necromancy go. “Not necessarily. I’ve been told that I’m something of a prodigy in general, but I’m not sure how true that is.” Tovell looked embarrassed. “I prefer to just stick with my summoning. It’s supposed to be rather complicated, but it’s what comes most naturally to me.”

A prodigy, eh? Maybe there was more to this kid than met the eye. “Interesting. I look forward to seeing your summoned friends in combat.” Tovell blushed, and Tannuck smirked. “So, is your prodigy stuff the reason your Arch-Mage was so insistent that you accompany us on our little quest?”

“Actually, I believe that would have more to do with my research. I know you went to the college looking for a mage to help in battle, but I think the Arch-Mage thought that my knowledge would help you more than someone who shoots lightning. I’ve studied the old Dragon Cult, you see.” Tovell’s voice was a little shaky, but he seemed confident in what he was saying. “I’ve read just about every book on the subject of dragons and their past reign, and the Arch-Mage thought that expertise would come in handy.” Tovell seemed to consider something, then decided to add one more thing. “And, while I’d hardly say I speak the dragon tongue, I might understand a word here and there.”

Tannuck looked impressed. “Nice, kid. I won’t be surprised if that plays a part in the days ahead.”

Looking, dare he say it, proud, Tovell’s sullen look receded slightly. “So, uh, what about you?” Apparently, not even this newfound pride would be enough to make him good at talking to people who intimidated him. “What are you good at?”

“Hitting people with big metal things, mostly.” With a pointed look, Tannuck added, “At least, that’s what has to do with you. Meatshield, remember?”

Tovell frowned. “Any more detail? I explained my skillset to you, the least you can do is do the same.”

“Ah, but my skillset is so much less complicated than yours. It doesn’t require as much explaining. Anything else, you don’t need to know right now.”

Tovell looked indignant. “I just shared information with you. In the college, we find that it’s only polite to repay knowledge with knowledge.”

“Yeah? Well, we’re not in the college, and I’m not a mage. Sorry, kid. Maybe someday.” Tannuck grinned. “Besides, I think enough time has passed. We can’t keep Ingmund and Rikje waiting, now can we?”

Tovell grumbled, and Tannuck’s toothy grin widened. 

\--

“I’m going to close the entrance behind me. The notch here will open it. Come on down when the rest of your party joins you.” With that, Delphine descended, leaving Ingmund and Rikje alone in the stifling silence. 

Rikje took a seat at the small table, keeping her eyes on the plate before her. Ingmund tried to meet her gaze, but her eyes never lifted.

Ingmund sat as well, and cringed when the resulting creak filled the room. Rikje didn’t so much as flinch.

This wasn’t working.

“Look, I… I’m sorry, about how I’ve been treating you lately.”

That startled her. Ingmund watched as Rikje frowned, but continued to avoid his gaze. “What do you mean?”

Ingmund let out a sigh. “I guess I keep...blaming you for things when they don’t go right. Or expecting you to fix everything.”  
“Well, I am your guide. Perhaps I have been neglecting my duties. I’ll try harder in the future.”

“No!” he said, trying to restrain his frustration. He stood and approached her table. “You’re not just our guide. You’re a member of the party, too. If I’m going to be the leader, I can’t keep blaming you for my mistakes or expecting you to come up with a plan for everything. That shouldn’t be on your shoulders, and I’m sorry I implied that it should be.” 

Ingmund put his hand next to the plate she stared at, and she finally raised her head. The two met eyes. Rikje opened her mouth to speak.

She was cut off by the door creaking open. “Uh, excuse me, are there any fresh blankets? Mine has a weird stain on it…”

The moment shattered, the two broke eye contact, and Ingmund snickered. “Get in here, Tannuck. Close the door behind you.” 

Tannuck and Tovell entered the room, the former bearing a wide grin. 

Rikje gave them a dry look. “What took you two so long? I was starting to think you had gotten lost on your journey through drunken farmers.”

“We didn’t get lost, we were just having a nice conversation. Weren’t we, Tovell?” The short mage scowled at the orc, who chuckled. “Besides, it doesn’t look like you two were suffering in boredom over here.” Tannuck eyed the two Nords. Ingmund was leaning on the table, hand just barely encroaching on Rikje’s space.

Understanding the implication, Ingmund turned red and yanked his hand off the table. Tannuck cackled.

“Hilarious. Now that you’re finally here, we should probably make our way downstairs. Delphine is waiting.” Ingmund retreated from the table and scrabbled at the inside of Delphine’s bookshelf, managing to open the secret passage.

Before descending the dim staircase, Rikje and Ingmund locked eyes once more. No words were exchanged, but Ingmund could see that he’d been forgiven.


End file.
